Putting the Pieces Back
by digisammiegirl
Summary: The responsibilities of the keyblade master are daunting and seemingly never-ending. What is the keyblade master to do when he is forbidden from returning to his island because of the keyblade?


AN: I've had this idea swimming around in my mind for a while. I'm actually thinking about connecting it with OH somehow. Anywho, this is where my inspiration has been leading me as of late. Yes, a bit on the dark side, but I plan to make it all better soon. As much as I like angsty Sora, I like a happy one better.

I don't know how often I'll update this, especially seeing as how MSaS went in updating.

Also a note to Final Fantasy diehards: I have not played FFVIII. I have almost finished FFVII and have watched FFVII:AC several times. As such, if I get any FFVIII things wrong, please forgive. I'm planning on playing it eventually once I finish FFVII (Meaning I get my memory card back from my friend Xp).

As another warning to readers, I'm not planning on staying entirely true to all series involved. I'll be tweaking things as I see fit. That includes the characters. There were many things in both the FF games and KH that I just wanted to tear apart and put back together (like Axel dying *hint hint*).

Without further ado, please enjoy.

oOoOo

A Gloomy Beginning

oOoOo

A resounding boom thundered through the halls as lightening flashed against an ashen sky. Rain pounded on the windows, creating a steady and harsh rhythm to those that listened. One such person was listening intently as he rested, rolled into a ball on a wide windowsill, looking out through paned tempered glass. The bolts seemed to warp through the glass as they flashed in the sky.

The figure refocused his eyes to his own reflection in the window. Long gone were the clothes of black and red he wore so often. That outfit was hanging in his wardrobe in his dorm room. In its place was a white, collard, button down shirt, crisp and starched though beginning to lose its stiffness against the cold stone at his back. The shirt was tucked into a pair of primly pressed black slacks. A pair of polished black shoes and a loose black tie around his neck completed the uniform. Across his lap sat a dark navy blue blazer. A brown saddle bag, filled with books and binders, hung carelessly across his shoulder, gravity trying to connect it with the floor. He looked like an ordinary school boy, even with the one item the school allowed as a personal touch: his crown necklace, hidden under the tie. The figure focused on his face. His eyes were about the same blue, but he couldn't be too sure; he never really looked at his own eyes before. He knew that he had lost a good quantity of his baby fat as his slimmed face showed. His neck remained thin and 'feminine', as his classmates liked to call him, though he couldn't understand how. His hair was still brunet, though it seemed darker. He wasn't so surprised by that; it's what happens when you don't get enough sun.

A bell tolled in the long stone hall the figure was situated in, yet he never gave indication that he had heard it. Doors began to open throughout the hall, other students exiting, talking excitedly to each other. Jackets were donned with a flourish and umbrellas were dug up from school bags. Talk of weekend plans passed through the halls, each student eager for their escape from schoolwork. Few took notice of the figure curled up in the window, though those few who did tried to be discrete. The figure heard every word.

"It's him."

"He skipped class again, didn't he?"

"Of course he did. The rules don't apply to him, remember?"

"Hmph. Of course. The keyblade master doesn't need to follow the rules. Not when he's got the heads of Radiant Garden in the palm of his hand."

"Come on guys, let's just ignore him. No need to…" the voice trailed off the further the speaker walked away.

Slowly the hall emptied of students with the teachers soon following who have nary a glance at the boy in the window.

Continuing to look out the window, the boy watched as black, grey, and white umbrellas scurried across the lawn below towards the front gate where those who were going home for the weekend went to catch their rides home. He watched as his classmates climbed into black cars, some of their friends climbing in behind. The figure continued to watch even as the last car drove away.

The bell tolled, indicating another hour gone by. Finally, the figure moved, backbones popping as he went. Giving a grunt, he flexed his fingers before grabbing his blazer by the collar in his left hand and swinging his legs over the edge.

Standing, the figure flicked his blazer over a shoulder, keeping it in place with a finger and paused, his head cocked as though listening for something. Without warning, he jutted his hand out to the side as though grasping for something out of reach. Warmth seemed to flow from his hand and down his arm to spread throughout his body as a spark of white light came aflame and quickly grew. Instinctually, the figure curled his had around the light. In reaction, the light grew from between his thumb and forefinger in the shape of a rod. As it grew, branches of light jutted out, twisting and twinning around each other. What seemed as though several minutes to the figure were but a scant few seconds to an observer. Eventually, the light settled, solidifying into a dark piece of metal. Where the figure's hand rested, the hilt of the handle curved around his hand to meet with the end of the handle. At the head of the object, three prongs were protruded. If anyone were to be asked to describe it, they would say it was a very large, and a very ornate key.

"Oblivion," the figure finally murmured. Lowering the key, the figure turned back towards the window just as another bolt of lightening struck across the sky. Eyebrows furrowed against the sudden flash of light. "If I had wanted to brood, I should have gone to Midgar and joined Cloud in one of his sessions," he muttered to himself as his fist clenched around the handle, the key suddenly sparking into light before fading. With a sigh, the figure set his blazer on the sill before removing his saddlebag and setting it on the floor. Reaching for his blazer again, he put it on, zipping and buttoning as he went. Bending down, he retrieved his bag, settling it on his shoulders once more. Quietly, he made his way down the hall towards his room.

As he made his way through the halls, he couldn't help but contemplate the layout of the school once more. The school's main building was divided into three sections. The middle section, the North Corner, was used as offices for the faculty. The second section, the West Corner, was where the majority of the classes were held. The rest of the classes were held in a second building above the West Corner, the North-West Corner. The last section was used for the dorm rooms, the East Corner. Between the West and East Corners was the Inner Court where a roundabout was situated around a working fountain with an angel in prayer. Last, but not least, in the North-East Corner was the gym complete with playing court and pool. The outside of the North-East Corner was called the Outer Court where tennis courts were situated along with a football field and stadium. As the figure liked to put it, it was your basic glorified boarding school.

Deciding to bypass any who remained, the figure made his way to the ground level of the West Corner. Once down, he made his way out a side door into the Inner Court, not caring about the rain. Outside, the figure paused, tilting his head towards the sky, basking in the sharp chill the rain brought as it cooled his face.

"_What do you mean I can't stay?"_

Blue eyes snapped open, connecting head moved to stare straight ahead. Leisurely, the figure started his trek across the court. Deciding to cut across the roundabout, he couldn't help but stare at the fountain of the angle. As usual, the fountain had been turned off for the storm. Usually, the fountain gave life to the angel, making it seem alive, praying in happiness and thanks. It was when the fountain was off that the angel seemed cold and desolate, as though it had sunk into darkness and despair. He hurried his steps as he tore his eyes away.

Entering another side door in the East Corner, the figure ignored the remaining students who stopped to stare at the soaked teen. Silently, he made his way up to the top floor via staircase, bypassing those who stared at him. He was used to the stares. Finally at the top floor, he made his way down the hall to his room, number 313. He couldn't help but smile at the irony of these numbers, no matter how simple they were. The first 3 indicated the floor he was on while the number 13 indicated his room, yet both held significant meaning to him.

"_I'm sorry, Sora."_

Snapping out of his daze, the figure opened the door and entered his personal room. Shedding his wet blazer, he hung it on a hook by the door as he slipped off his shoes before making his way towards the adjacent bathroom, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Pausing by the wardrobe, he hung his tie on a peg next to others holding more ties. He continued to the bathroom. Upon entry, he stripped himself of his shirt and tossed it into a basket in corner by the door before grabbing a fluffy towel. Rubbing his hair dry, he exited back into the main room as another bolt flashed through his paned windows, the light catching on his necklace. Making his way to the bed, he didn't stop as he idly raised a hand towards a nearby fireplace. With a lazy flick of the wrist, a ball of fire flew from his hand, hitting the wood in the fireplace, catching it ablaze, filling the once chilly room with slow warmth.

The figure sighed as he flopped on his back onto the bed, grasping the now damp towel behind his neck. He lay there, basking in the mix of cold and heat, his eyes watching the play of the firelight upon the white canopy above his bed, mixing with the lightening still blazing outside.

"Just another day," he murmured.

"_I'm sorry, Sora, but you can't stay on Destiny Island."_


End file.
